


Floating

by xxxillusionxxx



Series: Life is But a Dream [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe-Dark, Drug Addiction, Dubious Consent, M/M, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxillusionxxx/pseuds/xxxillusionxxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles needed the numbness like Peter needed the power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Floating

**Author's Note:**

> I keep writing these with the intention of never writing more, but I am quite frankly addicted to Addict!Stiles/DrugDealer!Peter. As always, be mindful of the warnings.

Stiles felt hazy most days. The constant supply of drugs to his system numbed him like nothing else could. At one time, he had only wanted to die. Every breath in his lungs was agony and he just couldn’t do it anymore.

He started by drinking it away. Taking his father’s example, he downed a bottle of liquor a day. He stayed out late and went home with complete strangers. Men, women, couples, Stiles really didn’t care. In retrospect, he was lucky he hadn’t caught anything.

It had been on one of those nights when Stiles had followed a man old enough to be his father back to a crappy motel room that he used for the first time. 

The moment he emptied the needle into his arm, Stiles felt free for the first time since his father’s death. The pain was gone, smothered by warm euphoria. He felt pleasantly numb long after the high faded.

It didn’t take him long to get really hooked. He blew through the insurance money in a matter of months. He had to sell the house and rent a small apartment instead.

It was around that time that he first met Peter Hale. Stiles was strangely intrigued by the man. He would often stay and talk when he needed to buy. Peter was a wealth of information, and there was always a darkness to his thoughts. Stiles felt he could relate to him better than the other druggies he met on the street.

He lost the apartment after only six months, kicked to the curb with barely enough cash to put food in his stomach. He spent it on drugs. 

When he went back to Peter, he was dirty, hungry, and neck-deep in withdrawal. He tried not to focus on the satisfaction radiating off the man when he asked for a trade.

Not long after that Peter asked him to just live in the house with him. It worked for Stiles who was sleeping with the prostitutes in an abandoned warehouse, though he knew he really couldn’t trust the man. 

The first thing he realized upon moving in with Peter was that he never let customers into the house. More often than not, he went to meet them at some unknown location, telling Stiles not to break anything. 

Stiles spent the first few weeks searching the house for Peter’s stash. Peter doled out dosages for him, but it was always bare minimum; just enough to keep him numb. He quickly realized that there was no extra stock lying around outside the sturdy safe under Peter’s bed. 

Another thing he learned about Peter was how much he liked to cuddle. Peter insisted that Stiles share his bed and though Stiles generally didn’t sleep much, he would trap him in his arms the whole night long.

He knew that Peter messed with him when he was doped out of his mind. It was to be expected since the man was a few marbles short of a full set. He was just glad that Peter never fucked him when he was unaware. 

The front door slammed shut and Stiles was shocked from his daze. Peter walked into the living room, smiling at Stiles before moving to put his keys down in the kitchen. 

“Have you moved at all since I left?” he asked. 

“Um, I just zoned out,” Stiles said, fingers twitching in expectation. 

Peter kicked off his shoes and sat down on the couch next to Stiles.

“That’s been happening a lot lately,” Peter mused, “Maybe you need to cut back.”

Stiles slid into Peter’s lap, leaning in and kissing him.

“Peter,” he said between kisses, “Can’t I please get my allowance?”

He learned to ask nicely after Peter watched him writhe without his fix the one time he snapped and yelled at the man for playing games with him. 

“An allowance is earned,” Peter said, nipping at Stiles’s jaw, “What have you done to earn it?”

Stiles was careful to keep the frustration out of his face. He ground his hips against Peter’s crotch. 

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

Peter sucked marks onto Stiles’s neck for a few minutes without responding. 

“Go into the bedroom, strip, and get on your hands and knees on the bed,” he finally said, smacking Stiles on the ass. 

Stiles didn’t need to be told twice. He practically jumped out of Peter’s lap and rushed into the bedroom, tossing his clothes to the floor as he went. 

Peter chuckled, picking up the trail of clothing as he followed behind Stiles. He threw them into a pile before leisurely stripping off his own clothes.

Stiles glanced behind him at Peter.

“Come on, I’m not getting any younger here!” he grouched, pouting and fidgeting until Peter finally crawled onto the bed behind him, settling into the space between Stiles’s legs. 

“Ooh, testy. Has it really been so long?” Peter said, pouring lube onto the crack of his ass and sliding two fingers into him. 

Stiles didn’t answer, just pushed back against Peter as he scissored his fingers, brushing against that sweet spot every couple of strokes. It felt good, but it wasn’t what he needed. His fingers twitched in anticipation of the fix he would finally get when Peter was finished. 

“Peter, please, fuck me already,” he panted out. 

Not needing to be told twice, Peter lined himself up and pushed inside all the way to the hilt, pausing for Stiles to adjust. 

Stiles didn’t care about the burn. He just needed. He rocked his own hips back and forth until Peter finally started moving inside of him. 

He must have zoned out again because one second Peter was sliding in and out of him at a slow pace and the next he was moaning his name and biting down hard on his shoulder, shuddering through his orgasm. 

Stiles didn’t particularly care to come but Peter always felt a need to reciprocate. He held still as Peter jerked him to completion. His orgasm was dull and empty. A quick burst of sensation up his spine so far from the euphoria he wanted. 

Stiles let Peter hold onto him for a few minutes before he began to wiggle impatiently.

“Peter, you promised,” he whined.

Peter sighed and dragged himself out of the bed, opening the safe and pulling out a small baggie of white powder, an old burnt spoon, and a needle. Stiles watched him hold the power over a lighter he always left in the bedside table.

“It’s less than usual,” Stiles whined. 

Peter looked up at him then back to what he was doing.

“I told you, you’ve been listless lately so you’re going to cut down. Don’t worry, this will be enough,” Peter said.

Stiles frowned but didn’t argue. Peter liked to manipulate his intake every once in a while. Stiles figured it was a power thing because he wasn’t stupid enough to believe that Peter really had his best interest at heart. He learned quickly not to argue about it because that only got him skipped dosages and horrible withdrawal. 

Going to another dealer wasn’t really an option anymore either. Even if he did have the money to pay, Peter would just find him and kill whoever was supplying him. 

It happened once when he first moved in. Stiles was overwhelmed by how much control Peter had over his life and he bolted. He found another dealer who would trade drugs for blow-jobs. He was a lot scummier than Peter but Stiles was free to come and go as he pleased. Not even two weeks later Stiles returned to the dealer’s apartment to find him dead on the floor with a wolfed-out Peter hovering over him, covered in blood. 

With that revelation went any future plans of escape. No way in hell he could outrun a werewolf.

“Here,” Peter said, tying off Stiles’s arm and pushing the needle into his vein.

Stiles gasped as warmth and pleasure flooded his system. He sighed his contentment and closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling. 

The bed dipped as Peter climbed back onto the bed and lay down next to Stiles, maneuvering his body until they lay chest to chest, Stiles’s head curled under Peter’s chin.  
Stiles lost track of time. He didn’t know if they had been lying together for a few seconds or a thousand years. He didn’t have the energy or care to brush off the invasive touches as Peter slid his hand up and down his body, occasionally dipping a few fingers in and out of his still wet hole.  
He didn’t think of his father, he didn’t think of Scott. He didn’t think about where he was and who he was with. Stiles just floated.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr!](http://www.tumblr.com/blog/xodanielleox) :)


End file.
